


A Name

by DemonDeepFried



Series: Drabbles [32]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Drabble, F/M, Fallen Angels, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDeepFried/pseuds/DemonDeepFried
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up in the middle of a busy street with nothing but a name in your mind. </p><p>'Castiel.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Name

You woke with a stinging headache and groaned as you sat up. Feeling hard concrete beneath you, you looked around to survey your surroundings. But it didn’t look as though you were anywhere familiar- tall grey buildings surrounded you on all sides and a four-lane tarmac road faced you. It seemed as though you were in the middle of a bustling city, however none of the people hurrying past you paid any notice of your shivering form.

Then with sudden clarity, a name echoed in your mind accompanied with a searing pang.

_Castiel._

***

“Look, I just think we should read up a bit more on Norse mytholog-” Sam was cut off when a frantic knocking sounded at their motel door.

Dean answered it cautiously. “Yes?”

“Castiel,” was all you could gasp, your voice still raspy and in need of water. You had hauled yourself across two states via various public transport and arrived at the place that had been flashing in your mind since you woke up with no memory. 

Your remaining strength spent on that one word, you practically collapsed into the elder Winchester.

***

Waking on a far comfier ground, you shot bolt upright and whipped your head around the room.

“Who are you?” Dean growled, holding a gun ear your face.

Your breathing became erratic and you backed as far as you could across the bed. “C-Castiel.”

“What? What are you talking about?” he frowned. “You-you’re not Cas?”

You shook your head but repeated, “Castiel.”

A rustling, of what sounded like feathers, reached your ears and your head snapped round to the right where there stood a man with dark hair and the bluest eyes to ever blue wearing a trench coat and an expression half-way between relief and bewilderment.

“Y/N?” he whispered, before he strode over to you and embraced you tightly. “I’m so glad you’re OK.”

“Castiel,” you breathed, kind of in shock. “Are you the one they call Castiel?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And you are Y/N, an angel who fell from our garrison.” A pause heated with longing and sadness. “And I cannot describe how thankful I am that you’re alive.”


End file.
